


baby just take aim

by changgus



Series: walk my way [1]
Category: ONF (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, There's Plot Too, ft hui's grey leggings that exactly two people care about, kind of, they're in a closet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24786037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changgus/pseuds/changgus
Summary: Part of being an idol is paying attention to the competition, watching as groups come and go, what works and what doesn’t. It’s hearing rumors and staff talking in waiting rooms. So Seungjoon thinks he’s prepared, thinks he knows what he’s getting when he meets Lee Hwitaek.
Relationships: Lee Seungjoon | J-Us/Lee Hwitaek | Hui
Series: walk my way [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802284
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	baby just take aim

**Author's Note:**

> so i only got into onf [checks notes] two days ago so i apologize if their characterizations are a bit off!! i've really just been enjoying their dynamic with the tagonnies on rtk and since i've started to look into them more was really inspired to write this. also it's a bit different from my other stuff but i hope y'all enjoy!!

Part of being an idol is paying attention to the competition, watching as groups come and go, what works and what doesn’t. It’s hearing rumors and staff talking in waiting rooms. So Seungjoon thinks he’s prepared, thinks he knows what he’s getting when he meets Lee Hwitaek. 

He’s heard that Hui is cold, that he’s hard working, a genius producer who never sleeps and has to be peeled physically out of his studio. He’s heard that he can be intense. What no one bothered to mention is that however beautiful he looks through a screen, Hwitaek is at least a hundred times prettier in person. And for every moment he’s focused and cold there’s another where he’s scattered and clinging to whoever is closest to him and willing to hold his hand. When he laughs it’s either in bright shouts or soft, gentle like waves. And when he praises Seungjoon on their first day in the studio together it boils something right in the core of his chest.

They start a group chat and it’s immediately populated with more memes than Seungjoon can keep up with including so many blurry, poorly cropped pictures of Pentagon members courtesy of Shinwon that any lingering shiny sunbae gloss rubs right off. Seungjoon realizes at once that they are kind, funnier than they have any right to be, and are more than willing to cheerlead their way through what is supposedly a competition. And they do take that seriously too, the competition, in between the jokes and the weird audio messages is intense planning and rearranging of schedules. 

The nature of the show does not give them nearly enough time to practice but they’re all just making it work somehow. Seungjoon, Hyojin, and Wyatt are the first to arrive when they finally move into dance practices and though they’ve all gotten close now he still feels like an awkward child on their first day of school as they shuffle around the practice room. 

It only takes a few minutes before Hyunggu, Wooseok and Hwitaek start filing in, their voices carrying from down the hall before they’re even close to the door. Hwitaek leads the pack and immediately Seungjoon is taken by how soft he looks, hair hanging in his face and no makeup on.

But then Seungjoon sees what he is wearing. 

The top half is fine, really, it is a nice loose long sleeved shirt that hangs down over his hands, it’s the bottom half that makes Seungjoon choke on his spit. Just grey leggings, tight and _clinging_ and leaving very, very little to the imagination. His legs are nice from years of dancing, solid and muscled, but what really grabs Seungjoon’s attention is the bulge.

Seungjoon has seen his fair share of dicks in his lifetime, but seeing Hwitaek’s heavy and outlined in his leggings in the broad daylight of the practice room is another thing no one prepared him for. It’s quickly becoming a long list. 

Wyatt whacks him on the back and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been staring and Hyunggu is talking, has _been_ talking, to which he can only nod along dumbly while his brain catches up. Luckily, Seungjoon is a goddamn professional and manages to pull himself together and not just drop onto his knees and give Hwitaek anything he asks for.

The choreographer walks them through some of the more basic bits of the routine, staging them around the room, breaking every so often so they can all discuss the best ways to utilize the stage, make small changes. Seungjoon offers his own opinions, now in work mode. This is where he’s most in his element. And he knows he looks good too, like this, when he moves.

When he dances, everything slows down and all his focus moves through his body. Hwitaek is good too, powerful. Any softness gives way to sharp lines and confidence.

Seungjoon’s standing off to the side with Hyunggu, monitoring Hyojin as he runs through one of his sections when he catches Hwitaek staring through the reflection of the mirror. They make eye contact through the glass and Seungjoon thinks maybe getting what he wanted will be easier than he thought.

The first proper break they take finds them all sitting against the wall in the back corner, sweaty and pulling at their clothes while Wooseok and Wyatt head down to the cafe to get drinks for everyone. Hwitaek collapses next to Seungjoon and is immediately in his space, leaning his head on his shoulder. It’s a little too hot for it, but Seungjoon lets him anyway.  


“You’re getting your sweat on me.” Seungjoon laughs, using his shoulder to nudge against Hwitaek’s cheek. 

“Oh yeah?” Hwitaek replies, smile almost shy, and rubs his head against Seungjoon like a cat. His face is still red from the exertion of the routine and it’s cute. He shifts his legs so his thigh is pressed up against Seungjoon’s point by point and it reminds Seungjoon of his goal.

Before he can say anything, Hyunggu appears in front of them to shove a water bottle into Hwitaek’s hands. He sits up to take it and Seungjoon watches the bob of his throat as he chugs it down, a stray rivulet traveling down his chin and the long line of his neck. They’ve only known each other for a few weeks, been able to call each other friends for less than that, but Seungjoon already knows he’s fucked. Or he’d like to be anyway, if everything goes his way.

Hwitaek tilts the water bottle in his direction in a question and Seungjoon takes it, lets it hover just over his mouth but not touching, and can feel Hwitaek’s eyes on him in turn as he drinks.

They really don’t have the time to sit and linger so once Wooseok and Wyatt have returned and everyone’s full and buzzing from the iced coffee they get back to it. Seungjoon forces himself to focus and just hopes any attention he’s paying to Hwitaek, any guiding touches come off as helpful and teaching and not any of the things he’s actually feeling.

It doesn’t work, apparently, because Hyojin is laughing in his face as soon as they’re in the van back to the dorm.

“Dude, you have never been more obvious in your fucking life. Like your desperate ass middle school crushes were more subtle.” 

“And?” Seungjoon replies, ignoring the way his friend hits at his chest as he continues to laugh. He pulls out his phone and clicks on Hwitaek’s contact in the group chat, opens up a new message. 

“Wait, damn, you’re really on a mission.”

“Can you mind your business for three seconds?” Seungjoon raises his phone up to catch his best angle, fans his fingers out in a V around his eye, and snaps a picture to attach with his text.

“Hyung, you know what he’s like when he’s on the hunt.” Wyatt says, making a vague hand gesture around the last word. 

Seungjoon spends a moment typing, just a short message to say how fun it was to work together, with a pink double heart emoji for good measure. He selects his picture and presses send.

“When I’m the only one here getting laid then you will realize.”

He figures it should be easy, a few flirty texts, a couple of suggestive-but-not-too-suggestive pictures, done. In the bag. In his mouth. Whatever. 

Except Hwitaek is not here to make anything easy for him. 

It takes a full day for him to even open the message and what Seungjoon gets in response is just a _thanks!_ with an animated sticker of a frog yelling. The group chat remains active, endless pings as the members send stupid shit back and forth to each other. Minkyun has spent the last three minutes re-recording an audio clip of himself yelling, accidentally cutting it off too early each time before he gives up and just sends it anyway. But the private chat between just Hwitaek and Seungjoon...it’s leaving a lot to be desired.

He doesn’t want to come on too strong but he also feels like there’s no way he was misreading the signals. It’s throwing him off his game. 

By next dance practice, nothing has changed. Seungjoon even wore his own tights, black, and a tank top, the kind with the stupidly drapey armholes. If it has any effect he can’t tell. 

Hwitaek is just as touchy as he has been, constantly finding any excuse to lean his head on his shoulder or wrap his hand around his thigh when they’re all sitting and laughing over lunch. He threads their fingers together mindlessly while discussing something with Hyunggu and, perhaps most alarming, rests his head in Seungjoon’s lap when they’re all in a heap on the floor during one water break.

This time Seungjoon waits and doesn’t message until it’s late and he’s already settled into bed for the night. He wasn’t even really planning on texting at all now, giving Hwitaek space to make a move, but he also genuinely likes talking to him and one last message, just a goodnight, outside of the group chat and just for them couldn’t hurt. So Seungjoon adjusts himself against the sheets and snaps another photo. This one is sloppier, grainy in the darkness and not a lick of makeup on. His hair is pushed back still with the headband he uses when he washes his face and he looks exhausted. But there’s something about it that works, so he sends it anyway with _sleep well hyung 💤_ and locks his phone letting it fall to his chest.

His eyes are half shut when the bright trill of the kakaotalk notification scares the shit out of him. He really wasn’t expecting a response but when he slides the message open he finds a blurry picture of Hwitaek’s face, clearly in the studio and not in bed, lit by the blue glow of his computer screen. Underneath it says _sweet dreams 💭_

They meet again bright and early, moving from the smaller practice rooms at Cube to a rented warehouse space to accommodate all the backup dancers and give them more of the feel of the actual stage. 

Hwitaek seems dead on his feet, face puffy from lack of sleep. He’s chewing on an ice cube he’d pulled from this morning’s coffee when Seungjoon drapes himself across his back. He tucks his face into Hwitaek’s neck, nose cold against his pulse point, and tries not to smile when he chokes around the ice. 

Today’s practice is more intense with everything starting to really come together, carefully monitoring through the shitty cell phone videos the staff are running around the space to take as they work. They’re starting to incorporate their props now and work on the bigger group sections and that means that Seungjoon is now crouched down, watching through his bangs as Hwitaek ties the long end of a ribbon around his throat.

The first few times his hands fumble and he doesn’t quite get the timing right, but once he gets the movements down it’s over. He tugs on the ribbon just once to check it before the staff is moving in his direction with the camera and though Seungjoon can’t see his face as he moves, his throat goes dry anyway.

There’s something about Hwitaek when he is performing that is just inherently sexy. If Seungjoon hadn’t already been taken in, watching this would have done it.

Then the ribbon doesn’t give the way it’s supposed to, getting tangled around his hand instead, and Wooseok makes a joke which makes Hwitaek bark out a laugh, so bright and loud. It reminds Seungjoon that he likes that too. 

When they’re given a five minute break just to reset, Hwitaek finds him immediately, hands resting on his hips.

“You’re doing great today.”

“I’m great everyday.” Seungjoon beams in response. 

“Well, now you’re starting to sound like Hyunggu.”

“Hey,” He pouts for effect. “I was born first if anything Hyunggu can start to sound like me.”

Hwitaek laughs and his thumb skates the bottom of Seungjoon’s shirt. It’s hard to read the line with him, between friendly and something else, but the scrape of nail against his hip bone feels dangerously something else.

“No, I think I like you both the way you are.”

Later that night Seungjoon decides to play a game, just a little test to see what Hwitaek will do. He’s fresh out of the shower, hair still hanging damp and clinging in his face. When he angles his phone, he can see the pink of his cheeks reflected back at him. Seungjoon keeps it tasteful, just enough bare shoulder and tile in frame that Hwitaek will know where he is but not enough that he can’t deny what he’s doing if Hwitaek doesn’t reciprocate.  


He presses send before he can think about it too much and waits.

This time Hwitaek’s response is fast. It’s another picture of himself, in bed this time surprisingly, with the covers pulled up to his chin. Just like the last one it’s blurry and the angle is awkward, like he never quite learned to take pictures of himself. It definitely does not match the tone of Seungjoon’s picture but it’s intimate all the same. It feels special and he knows Hwitaek took it just for him.

After a few minutes Hwitaek follows it up with _thinking of you_.

They’re back in the big warehouse and this time it’s Seungjoon who’s dead on his feet. After the last text the night before he may or may not have forced his way into Hyojin’s bed to make him analyze it with him like they really were back in middle school. Just like then, it involved a lot of Hyojin telling him he was an idiot.

Now they’re getting into position to run through one of the earlier transitions in the choreography. Seungjoon dropping to his knees, the camera moving back to reveal Hwitaek in the same position. They’ve run through it loosely before but it’s different now with all the backup dancers. Everything is sharper, more focused.

Seungjoon breathes out through his mouth as he positions himself in the center. He waits for his cue as Wyatt finishes his verse and then he drops. It’s easy enough and he knows that other than accommodating for the lantern prop when it’s time that he’s got it down. He throws his head back at the same time his arm goes up and then, once the camera has cleared him, rushes into his next position, lacing his fingers through Hyunggu’s.

They do it two more times before they pause to monitor. Hwitaek hooks his chin over Seungjoon’s shoulder while they huddle around the staff’s phone. He is hyper aware of all the places they touch as the the video plays through, can feel Hwitaek’s breath hitch against his neck at the same time as his knees hit the floor on the screen. He knows he looks good, legs spread and head thrown back, but Hwitaek confirms it with a gentle “Wow.”

Then the camera moves and Seungjoon gets to see what he normally misses in practice.  


Hwitaek looks desperate, it’s in his eyes, but then as he lets the dancer cradle his head his expression bleeds into something different, almost hungry. The video keeps playing but Seungjoon can’t focus anymore.

All of his attention narrows down to Hwitaek pressed against his back, breath fanning into the crook of his neck, the way his hands feel rested on his hips. Someone calls for a break and that’s the final straw. Seungjoon tilts his head back so his mouth finds Hwitaek’s ear, whispers “Follow me.”

It takes trying several doors before Seungjoon finds an empty closet and drags Hwitaek in behind him. His heart is pounding in his ears so loud he feels like a fucking cartoon character. Like if he doesn’t have his mouth on some part of Hwitaek in the next minute literal smoke will start pouring out of his skull.

In the moment it takes for Seungjoon’s eyes to adjust to the dark, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. Hwitaek laughs, soft, and tugs on his hand.

“What are we doing?” He sounds nervous when he says it, like he’s maybe thinking the same.

“What do you think we’re doing?” They’re about the same height so it’s easy for Seungjoon to crowd into his space, easy for him to press their noses together. Their lips are almost touching and it would be easy too, to close the gap.

“I didn’t know if you wanted this.” Hwitaek says, hand finding the back of Seungjoon’s neck. 

“You’re joking.” Seungjoon pulls back to look into Hwitaek’s eyes, waiting for them to crinkle the way they do whenever he laughs.

“No?”

“Oh my _god_.” 

Seungjoon doesn’t have the time to waste explaining to Hwitaek every single hint he has dropped for the past weeks, they can unpack all of that later. Instead, he presses his lips to the corner of Hwitaek’s jaw right where it meets his ear. And then, like a secret just between them he says, “Hwitaekie-hyung, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

Hwitaek huffs a laugh and finds Seungjoon’s lips with his own. He tastes like the remnants of the cherry chapstick he’d bummed off Wooseok earlier, lips plush and soft. He drags his nails up into Seungjoon’s hair and Seungjoon rocks his hips against Hwitaek’s, tight.

“I’m yours, I’m yours.” He breathes it against Seungjoon’s lips like a mantra and Seungjoon chases back in blind and bruising.

He keeps the pressure between their hips, knocking Hwitaek’s back against the wall just to keep the rhythm. Hwitaek moans into his open mouth, a small sound at the back of his throat. Seungjoon pulls back only to drag his lips down the sensitive skin of Hwitaek’s neck. In an ideal world he would take his time to tease, learn all the different sounds Hwitaek can make, take his time dragging them out of him. He hopes he’ll have the time to find out, later. 

For now, Hwitaek’s cock is pressing a hard line against his thigh, straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Hold still.” Seungjoon says, steadying Hwitaek’s hips with just a tap of two fingers. 

Seungjoon drops down to his knees, just like they’ve been practicing, and rucks up Hwitaek’s shirt to mouth at the soft skin just above his waistband. He wonders if Hwitaek will think of him like this when they go back out, every time he watches their performance.

Hwitaek’s pants are loose and slide down easily over his thighs. His fingers slide instinctively into Seungjoon’s hair as Seungjoon mouths at him through his boxers. Seungjoon wants so desperately to savor this, to catalogue each scrape of Hwitaek’s nails against his scalp. He shoves Hwitaek’s boxers down in one clean motion, yanking them to pool with his pants at his ankles. 

And he does tease a little, sucking a kiss into the sensitive skin where his thigh meets his groin on one side and then the other. When Seungjoon finally pulls him into his mouth, Hwitaek’s hips stutter.

His cock is heavy on his tongue and everything he dreamed of that day he saw him in those little leggings in the practice studio. He hollows his cheeks and allows Hwitaek to guide the motion of his head with his hand fisted in his hair. 

Seungjoon’s jaw aches from the stretch and Hwitaek keeps making these sweet little sounds, biting down on the flesh of his palm to try to swallow them down. He feels needy and desperate, digging one hand into Hwitaek’s thigh and the other fisted loosely around the base of Hwitaek’s cock to make up for what his mouth can’t take. Seungjoon looks up at Hwitaek through his lashes and the eye contact is enough to have Hwitaek stuttering into his mouth, coming down the back of his throat. 

He pulls off slow and wet and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Fuck, sorry.”

“No, that was-” Seungjoon rocks back onto his heels before pushing himself back up to standing. “That was great.”

He’s surprised when Hwitaek kisses him then, languid and slow. The hand that had just been tugging at his hair moments before is now gentle, soothing. Hwitaek reaches to palm Seungjoon through his track pants but he stills his wrist.

“Next time.” And he’s not sure exactly what he’s asking for when he says it but he knows he means it. He wants more, if Hwitaek will let him.

Hwitaek presses one more kiss against his lips like a promise. Seungjoon helps him get himself back together and they take a minute to look each other over once they’re back in the light of the hallway. They’re both a little disheveled, lips just too swollen to have been doing anything else. Hwitaek tries to fix Seungjoon’s hair but they end up both just laughing. 

When they get back to practice Hyojin shoots him a look that says they’ll be talking about this later. Seungjoon beams in response, and takes Hwitaek’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> vote for pentagon on rtk
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gayjinho) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/gayjinho)


End file.
